Date: Thu, 15 May 2003 11:28:30 -0500
From: Condor
Subject: Gabriel's journey - Chapter 6
Weell, here it is, the next chapter. I've tried to avoid some of the awful
spelling mistakes I've made in previous ones so let me know if there are
any grammar fluffs. How are you enjoying the story so far? I hope you like
reading it as much as I like writing it! Any suggestions or comments are
always greatly received and I always try to reply to them. So let me know
what you think. BTW sorry this chapter took so long, Work you see! Bleah!
"Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once."
-William Shakespeare, "Julius Caesar, Act II, Sc. 2, line 32."
Dwight Kayburn had owned the silk lace corner club for just over three
years. It had taken him an awful lot of money to buy it out from the
previous owner. In fact, it had taken so much that he was unable to borrow
the full amount from the bank. Desperate, he had sought alternative means
and had finally arrived at them, although not they were not the safest
option, they were the best he could do.
He had sworn he would pay the 'Knave'. back After all, nobody messed with
the 'Knave' unless they wanted bits of themselves mailed back to their
loved ones in that next DataTranz. That hadn't happened, luckily, but he
had fallen behind in the payments by few months. A bad mistake when you
were dealing with one of the belows most unscrupulous crime lords. The
club just wasn't making as much money has he had hoped. It wasn't his
fault, it's just the way things were. Not exactly the best location, all
things considered. He couldn't afford a license for one of the more
affluent areas of town and so the club had been located here. Not that
Dwight minded. He liked below. Most of his clientele demanded anonymity and
a place like below provided just that, a place to blend in. To become lost
in the crowd, another faceless wanderer is search of a brief moment of
happiness, a island of respite in a sea of denial and hatred.
And it had come to this. Him, crouched behind a dumpster outside his own
club, being shot at by goons with high powered Pulse Rifles. What a way to
die! By all rights he should be dead already. When the explosion rocked the
club he had been flung to the floor, with one of the brothers on top of
him. Luckily that had sheltered him enough from the blast to be able to
escape out of the huge hole that had once been the stage and backstage area
and flee. Unfortunately when he had run around the front of club, two more
thugs intent on hastening his untimely demise had pinned him down and he
had been forced to hide, or be evaporated!
Two more green bolts of energy whistled over head, to impact into a
building at the end of the street. Small gritty Nova's flew in all
directions and the crater marks glowed white-hot where the pulses had
impacted. No human could survive that.
Dwight checked the charge on his pulse pistol.(always wise to be armed in
below) About half full, twenty more shots before the cell was
empty. Dammit!
Dwight had always been a firm believer in life. Ok, he had never been the
handsome one in his family (most people credited him with the features of a
rather ugly ray, a trait which could come in useful sometimes). But he had
the smarts, the craftiness of a fox, the guile of a dozen wolves and the
ruthlessness one needed some times to get ahead in life. Especially in the
erotic services business. He had worked hard and sacrificed a lot to get to
where he was at the moment. He had earned it! OK, so he hadn't been
perfect. OK, so he had made some mistakes along the way. And, Ok, Borrowing
money from an underhanded, neurotic crime boss was beginning to seem like a
pretty dumb idea. But it injured Dwight's sense of fairness, his morale
compass, (when he listened to it) to think that all he had worked towards
would be for nothing as soon as one of those super-heated green phantoms
impacted with his pale, unprotected flesh. Severe Sunburn!
Forget it! There wasn't any way he would go quietly. They would have to
drag him kicking and screaming to his death, before prizing his gun from
his cold, dead fingers!
He popped up from behind the Dumpster and let fly with a series of pulses
that impacted wildly of various inanimate objects, Walls, The pavement and
other buildings. The bolts left burns holes that glowed like newly fallen
stars. He ducked a volley of return fire and fired again, shrieking
inhumanly. This was the way he was going to go out? Well, It would be a
damn fine show. One for the coroners report! It was just a pity he was such
an appalling shot or he might have been able to take one of them to hell
with him! More searing heat flashed by and he blasted back, his pulse
pistol humming an off key dirge with the amount of energy passing through
its dispersion coils. The thuds and hisses of the deadly packages of energy
could be heard melting the side of the Dumpster and Dwight could smell
burning. Thick, voluminous black smoke began to waft out into the night
sky. Something inside must have caught fire. Rats squeaked out inhuman
chorus, the song of their death throes inside the Dumpster.
In the eerie green glow of the deadly energy pulses, Dwight again checked
the charge of his energy pistol. Nearly ten shots left. Perhaps not enough
to rescue him from this situation but easily enough to take one of the
bastards with him. If it had come to this, If this was the point that his
life was to end then he was going out...
...The EM grenade went off without warning. The dull thud of sonic
vibrations sent his stomach soaring before everything was cocooned in a
brilliant flare for the briefest of moments. Dwight was punched with a wave
of dizziness that robbed him of his strength and caused him to collapse
like a rag doll, to the ground next to the Dumpster. The EM grenade had
interfered with his body's electrical signals and for the next few minutes
he would be able to do nothing while the brain sorted out the scrambled
impulses and re-aligned them. While this happened he was utterly
helpless. The gun dropped from his nerveless fingers. Not that it made any
different. The grenade would have friend all the circuitry inside it any
way. It was all hopeless.
The Ceramisteel barrel of the APR poked him in the ribs. He groaned and
tried to roll onto his back. Even this was difficult, his body not having
time to recover from the effects of having every nerve cell simultaneously
defibrillated! His legs and arms were like gel, oozing and folding without
his command. He could barely speak, never mind stand. Luckily he didn't
have to.
A ham sized fist latched tightly onto his lapels and hauled him up to eye
level. He couldn't see the other mans face, a balaclava hid it, but he
could see the eyes. There was no pleasure there, no joy to this. Just the
cool, calm focus of someone following orders. Sweat beaded on his brow and
trickled in a maddening stream down his face, to drip off the barrel of the
APR pointed at his head by the other assassin. Again, the face was covered
although the curve of her body and slight, if muscular build suggested she
was a women. The man holding him up eyes him with contempt.
"Pathetic! Hummph! Is this the best that society has to offer. I,m
disgusted! Ugh! I think I,m going to need to take a bath after this"
"Cool it!" the women retorted! "Lets just do we need to do and get the hell
out of here!"
The man nodded the affirmative, and eyeballed Dwight.
"Listen carefully, you only got one chance to live. Your club is ruined and
if you ever hope to see the end of today, your gonna tell us everything you
know. Now then, the next answer I want to hear from your lips is either
yes, or no. If I hear anything else apart from one of those two answers, my
associate here will get a little trigger happy. Understand?"
Dwight nodded, swallowing the huge ball that had suddenly manifested itself
in his throat.
"OK, we understand each other. Then my question is this. Have you ever
heard of a man we happen to be looking for. His name is Zachary Brannigan
but he goes by the name of Zak to most people. Now then, we know he
works..."
Here the man glanced casually at the smoking rubble, shards of glass and
smoking debris left around the side of the silk lace
"...Used to work here. So, I need an address! Now!"
Dwight mind was a whirl. These men didn't work for the Knave after
all. This whole charade was simply to find Zak. But Why? What the hell was
going on? Who were these people? Police? Maybe so, after all their weapons
fit the bill. Gangsters? The Martian Mafia? But why go to such extreme
lengths? Surly it would have been easier just to have him taken out,
quickly and quietly. Drug lords? Dwight quickly disregarded that idea. Zak
just wasn't the type. So who then?
"I didn't hear you!" said the man who was still holding him suspended above
the floor.
"I..I dunno" squeaked Dwight. It was the truth. Zak had only been working
for him about 6 months and he hadn't enquired about address. Sometimes, to
get the best you just had to keep quiet and Dwight could tell that Zak's
past hadn't exactly been peaceful.
The mans eyes narrowed.
"Wrong answer! Don't bullshit me little man! You have no idea who your
playing games with. Your nothing to me and I won't hesitate in killing you!
Believe that! The only thing that's gonna save that pathetic shit hole you
call life is the truth. So...I ask again. What is Zak's address?"
Dwight rolled his eyes. He truly didn't know. Not that it really mattered
any more. Everything he had strived for in the world was gone. True, he had
a little set aside but not enough to start again or pay back what he
borrowed. Or even fix up the damage. This time, it really was the end. They
would probably kill him anyway, no surprise there! No witnesses, no crime!
He could only think of one answer to the question he had been given. One
that summed up the entire situation appropriately. It was the only one, So
he gave it.
"Fuck You!"
The man nodded.
"That's what I thought you might say."
He dropped Dwight, who landed in an unceremonious heap on the floor with a
thud, his limbs flayling. The man hefted his assault rifle and Dwight heard
that terrible whinny of the rifle's charge up.
The women stood next to him, raising her Assault rifle. Two small targets
projected from the weapons under barrel holographic sights coalesced onto
his forehead.
A gob of spittle arced through air and landed with a small 'splodge' on
Dwight's face, making him recoil in disgust. The man and women chuckled to
see his discomfort. He couldn't bear it any more. He closed his eyes at the
end.
"see you!"
He heard the electronic cough bark out twice as the rifles spat out their
deadly payload.
"This is the last thing I,ll ever hear" he though. His life for the past 45
years flashed through his mind. The things he had never done, the things he
would never do. The bad choices he had made and the good people he had
ignored or hurt. If only he could change things. If only he had another
chance. You never realised how much time you had wasted until the end. But,
there was nothing for it now. Too late, far far too la......
The dead weight that landed on top of him crushed all the air from his
lungs and all rationale thought from his brain. For a second he couldn't
breath, couldn't think and then couldn't see. This was it. This was what
death was like. His final brief nanoseconds on this mortal coil before the
final plunge into the blackness of the abyss. Here he was teetering on the
brink. Somehow though, through the cloying numbness of the final instant,
the small part at the back of his brain not busy with dying perked up. He
had expected having your head blown off by high yield energy bolts to be
more...Painful. He tried to suck in air, but something heavy on top of him
prevented his intake of oxygen. The smell of charred meat hung heavy in the
air.
Wait a minute? He could breathe! He could smell! He wasn't dead! The sudden
realisation of his continued existence brought a stab of joy that nothing
else could equal. Everything he had worked for lay in ruins but at least he
was alive.
The question was, How? What had happened. Gingerly he pushed upwards with
all his might. Shaking off the last of the weakness the EM grenade had
caused he shove again and the dead weight rolled away. He staggered to his
feet, wobbling slightly and inspected the mass. It was the man. Or, to be
more precise, what was left of him. They only way that Dwight could
identify him was by his weapon. Most of his head and shoulders were
missing. All that remained was blackened tissue where cloth had fused to
flesh and bone. Almost next to him lay the women, face down. Her lower
torso now longer existed, being nothing more than a huge burn hole through
which Dwight could see the pavement bellow, as well as various internals in
states of partial disintegration.
Dwight suddenly felt light-headed and very sick. He wretched, before
emptying his guts out onto the ground. Wiping his mouth with the back of
his sleeve, he swallowed, swirling saliva around in his mouth to rid
himself of the bilious taste.
What had happened? Had their weapons malfunctioned? Or was there a third
person gunning for him? Suddenly mindful of his own recently rediscovered
mortality he scooped up the women's assault rifle and spun around, thumbing
the button on the side that changed the setting from single shot to fully
automatic. The auto target feature activated and the holographic crosshair
leapt from the rifle, cutting the shadows and coming to rest on a figure,
not 10 feet away. Dwight's finger automatically tensed on the trigger.
The man standing not 10 feet away from him did not react. In fact, he
seemed all most glued to the spot, his arm raised. The APR he carried hung
by its strap over his right arm, the stock pressed into the mans shoulder
and the whole weapon supported by his right hand acting as a fulcrum
balancing the weapon while one finger held the trigger. It was truly
amazing that, holding a weapon like that, the man was able to hit anything
at all! Dwight had difficulty making out the others features, since the
shadows obscured his face but one thing was sure. This man was badly
injured. His left arm was twisted bizarrely and probably broken, and he
seemed to hold little weight on his right leg. Further to that, his shirt,
which may have been white once, was now covered in blood. A small poll
trickled and dripped, tumbling to the floor with small 'plips'
Dwight frowned. This man had saved him, but he had been through too much to
simply trust anyone now. Yet, at the same time he seemed familiar. Had he
met him before?
"Come into the light" Dwight ordered sharply "Nice and slowly"
The rifle clattered to the floor, as the man took a few hobbling steps, his
right ankle dragging behind him. Light washed over his head and Dwight
gasped, as much in utter surprise as recognition. As the man tottered and
sagged to his knees, Dwight dropped his own assault rifle and rushed over
to catch the other before he collapsed completely.
Dwight peered into the eyes of his saviour and sighed. Guilt gnawed its
ugly way around his stomach, like a nest of piranha's feeding
"Oy! Mate! What's your name? Where do you live! Oh Fuck! Don't die on me
now! Your gonna be OK Pal! Do you hear me? Do You? I,m sorry mate, OK, I..
"I,ll...I,ll be just...fine...now. really.
Dwight wished he could believe him, but he didn't know. He just didn't
know.
Gabriel smiled up at the man who had wanted to kill him just 15 minutes
ago, and sighed. Everything would be all right now. Everything would be Ok.
Now all he had to do was find Zak and...
The world collapsed inwards, life contracting and spiralling to a small
pinprick of light, before even that flickered out. The dark was soothing
and warm. Safe. Here he felt no pain. Here, he was safe. Distantly he heard
a voice calling his name but that was a physical thing so he ignored it. Of
the physical world, he knew no more. It was no more. Gabriel slept.
The darkness was infinite. A soothing blanket that eased his pain and
pillowed him gently. He felt like he were floating, drifting gently in a
warm sea of nothingness. It was so serene, so peaceful. He never wanted to
leave. Far, far away he thought he heard someone call his name. He ignored
it. They didn't matter any more. All that mattered was being wrapped up in
the soothing darkness, in the knowledge he was safe.
Again some one called his name At least, he thought it was his name. Names
didn't really matter in a place like this, and so he wasn't completely
sure. But it was louder this time, more urgent. Somebody seemed to be
trying to communicate with him. Well, let them try. They had had their
chance, now was his time. The voice receded until it was nothing more than
buzzing insects in the grass, annoying but easily ignored.
Time past. Maybe seconds. Maybe years. Time had no meaning in this
place. He languished, idle. Not wanting to leave. He was so contented here,
away from the hectic, oft disastrous world out side. He smiled. This was
where he wanted to be. Forever. Here he would find complete solitude. Final
delight.
Final except for that name calling yet again! But, but it wasn't name
calling any more. It was....He strained to here this new sound...it was
music! Music? Why here? Why Now? He strained a little harder to hear. The
music seemed to be emanating from a tiny pin prick of light, far far
away. As the music carried to wards him, he concentrated on the melody. It
was haunting, yet angelic at the same time. As if all the choirs of death
and time had come together in this place to harmonise this piece just for
him. It was beautiful, soulful and achingly familiar.
Familiar? Where had he heard it before? Concentrating on the words, he
listened as they wrapped him up in their mournful song.
"And still I want, for wanting sake. Still travelling in another's wake
Until, at last, I'll be my own A spirit soars No more alone. And then I,ll
finally make my way From darkness into glorious day."
It hit him then. He knew that song now. He knew its singer. He remembered
it all. Everything that had led him to this one prolific moment. Live or
Die? Once, seconds or Centuries ago, his would have made his choice without
a second (or centuries) decision. And he could say the same again
now. Only, this time he could make a different choice. The right
choice. Now was not his time. He had too much to do, too much to set
right. There was not just him to think about anymore. Turning slowly, he
floated towards the light.
As he drifted all the closer, the voices he had heard meandered nearer
now. It was not just people calling his name, as he had first heard. Many
voices were overlapping, speaking at the same time. Some he could make out,
some he could not. As he drifted still closer snatches of conversation
could be heard, coalescing around the waves of sound that washed over him,
buffeting him like surf crashing against the beach. He strained to hear.
"...Gabriel, your going to be all right, were just loading you into the..."
"...We have a code 39, en route to St Eugene's, ETA 12 minutes..."
"...Please Don't die Gabriel, I,d..."
"...Lost a lot of blood, get me..."
"...Internal bleeding. We may have to operate, get him up to..."
"...In Arrest! Get me a DeFib team Stat!..."
"...10cc's Ceralide, then up the dosage, if he doesn't respond..."
"... The bone knitter is going to take at least 24 hours, so there's no...
"...Gabriel. Can you hear me. Please!. Oh God. Please..."
"...Brain damage. It's difficult to tell at this stage. The blood loss..."
"...Been informed. They're coming from earth on the next..."
"...Gabriel. I'm here. I don't know if you can hear me or not but..."
"...Discharged. There's nothing more we can do. Hopefully he'll make it..."
"...This equipment. It makes him look so small, vulnerable. It this..."
"...Son, Can you hear me. It's mum. I...I don't know if I'm ever going to
be able to..."
"...I was angry. Angry and hurt. But I never expected this to happen. Its
all my fault, I,m so sorry..."
He entered the light!
There was no pain. He had expected much pain but there was non. Wherever he
was, it was soft and warm. And comfortable. He squirmed slightly. What was
he doing? Had he overslept? Damn, he might be late for work. Again he
shifted slightly, without much success. His movement seemed to be hampered
by a mass of pipes, tubes and wires that seemed to be engulfing him. He
could hardly breathe! He nearly gagged on the one down his throat. And
could there be...yes! Pipes over his genitals and inside of him! What had
happened?
Gingerly he opened one eye. Retina-searing brightness caused him to squint
and shut it again. Gingerly, he opened it slowly, peering out through the
crack. The place seemed familiar. Very familiar! Small and pokey. Kitchen,
Bathroom door. This was...This was his apartment! What on earth?
He listened. There seemed to be various noises emanating from around his
bed (his own bed! In his apartment) Electronic beeps, clicks, whirrrs and
buzzing played around him like lights onto rippling water. He swivelled his
eyeball. At the end of his bed lay a mass of machines. Various monitors
displayed what he assumed to be his bio readouts and functions. Next to it
a mass of glass cylinders on a rotating frame connected to various tubes
which disappeared under the sheets. Presumably into him. What was going on?
All this medical equipment. Had he been ill?
Gingerly, he tried moving all his limbs. All of them seemed to be
functioning properly, yet all felt shaky and weak to move, as if he were
not quite in control of his co-ordination. He doubted he could hold
anything with out dropping it. Or even write his name without it being
illegible.
Gabriel opened both eyes and winced slightly. Ahhhhhh! Too bright! Giving
himself few moments for his eyes to adjust, he stared at the ceiling trying
to figure out what had happened. What was the last thing he remembered? He
was....He was...flying? Yes, that seemed right. But only for a moment. He'd
been doing that and then he'd landed...Badly. Then he remembered
floating. It was calm then and he didn't hurt any more. And then...then...
...then it hit him. Memory returned with a vengeance. The one brief moment
of the curiosity of the truly na•ve evaporated as his brain reasserted
his existence and memories came flooding back in a deluge of hopes, fears,
dreams and stark realties. Had a tube not wedged Gabriel's mouth open, he
would have probably cried out!
Zak! What had happened to Zak? he had to find him! He sat up, determined to
locate his erstwhile friend. He had to make things right again. He had
to...
A wave of nausea swept over him, and he fell back to the pillow, his
stomach in turmoil. The effort to sit up had robbed him his strength and he
felt as weak as a newborn babe. Dimly he was aware that the autodoc was
shrieking alarms all around him, presumably at his pathetic attempt at
mobility. Feeling drained and tired, he closed his eyes and took a deep
shuddering breath. For the moment he wasn't going anywhere
When he opened them again, a dark shaped loomed over him. The bed clothes
were peeled back and Gabriel, through the murk of exhaustion and drugs felt
suddenly very embarrassed that his nakedness and violation by a number of
tubes was on display for anyone to see. As he screwed up his eyes to get a
better picture, something warm and damp caressed his skin, and began to
move in slow circles across his chest, tickling against his nipples. In
slow circles the sponge moved around, sometimes feather light, sometimes
more forcefully but never harsh. His arms were lifted to clean underneath,
then the dark shape loomed over head and his hair (dishevelled no doubt)
was swept back by a soft hand. The sponge passed over his lips and eyes,
cleansing them of sleep and allowing Gabriel to see more clearly. As the
sponge moved back down his neck, Gabriel followed the soothing softness to
the hand. Hand to arm, arm to body, stripped to waist. Torso to neck. Neck
to head. The face, with its high cheekbones and soft chestnut brown hair
and large, liquid green eyes. Gabriel blinked. His vision was suddenly very
blurry and he could feel moisture trickling down his cheek. Slowly, with
all his strength, he lifted his hand and gently placed over that which
gripped the sponge. The hand stopped. For what seemed an indefinably long
time, neither moved. Then, Zak turned his face and met Gabriel's gaze,
locking onto him like a laser beam. Through that look, emotions so intense
that they could not be put into words travelled. Transported by some
invisible network through air charged with lightning. Gently, the sponged
thudded to the floor. Gabriel shifted position as Zak's weight suddenly
pressed against his own body, his lithe form pressed Gabriel's own. Pipes
were elbowed out of the way or slid under. Every curve moulded perfectly to
Gabriel's counterparts. It felt as thought they were too inseparable
beings, joined by a force that could not be explained or measured. Just
cherished.
Gabriel could not explain it. He felt as if his heart would burst. Every
nerve in his body was on fire. His blood felt as if it were filled with gas
that bubbled and fizzed. His brain and every muscle he had was a glow. The
contentment he felt had no equal. No match. How could anyone feel this
needed without going insane? How much loss could one person feel without
the same? His need, suddenly so great scared him. Not a sexual drive but
the need just to be with this wonderful, sensitive, funny person. A drive
so strong that it alarmed him in its intensity. He never wanted to lose it,
to let go of it. He wanted to hold it forever. Somewhere, in the very
darkest recess of his brain ,something told him this wasn't quite
right. That his intensity was so fierce, so possessive that it reached
almost unnatural proportions. The only time he had felt such a way was when
he and Zak had cried over what they had lost, 2 weeks ago (was it really
only that amount of time!) Only this time, it was not pain he was feeling,
but pleasures. An aching wonder, so full of stars and sparks that he felt
sure every hair on his head must be standing on end.
Then He felt Zak's face nestling into his chest, and the tears flow down
his torso and into the mattress. All rational thought fled away. He turned
to wrap his arms and legs around the fragile body of the other and they
shared one of the most intense experiences anyone can share with another
person. A joining of mind with mind and soul with soul. A clarity of
thinking and feeling that they had never experienced before. It was truly
ethereal.
It was a long, long time before they broke away.